


hours that just went on for days

by CallofTheCurlew



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dan and Phil in Australia, It gets a little heavy but it ends positively., M/M, No Spoilers, Phil POV, Phil reflects, Phil's overwhelmed, Tour Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 13:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallofTheCurlew/pseuds/CallofTheCurlew
Summary: At times like this, he wishes he could identify the all the thoughts that are shooting straight through him, like the thousand needle attack of the Final Fantasy Cactuar enemies.





	hours that just went on for days

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my rock, [alyciaclebnam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyciaclebnam/works), who coached me through this. I've been trying different ways of writing and I have to say I'm really in love with this fic. It feels a bit different and I'm really happy with the way it turned out. 
> 
> Also shout out to Lea Michele and her rendition of "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" from the Glee soundtrack, which also helped title this fic. Despite having absolutely no relevance to the fic itself, this song was on repeat whenever I was writing :)
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr?](https://callofthecurlew.tumblr.com/post/178105833850/hours-that-just-went-on-for-days)

Waking up naturally isn’t something Phil has done in an incredibly long time. There’s always an alarm – too loud and difficult to shut off with his sleep-fogged mind. Or there’s always someone (usually Dan, but sometimes Marianne on this tour) cursing and pulling him from a dream. They always have to be somewhere, have to do something, have to put on a face and smile for the fans.  
  
But today is different.  
  
Today, there is nothing. No alarm. No Marianne. There’s a Martyn and a Cornelia, but they’re exploring today. It’s just them, in this house.  
  
Phil hasn’t opened his eyes yet, although he can see the brightness of the room behind his lids. Queensland is so nice – at least this part, the Far North, is. The airbnb is close enough to the beach that he can smell the salt and the sand.

Sand usually irritates him, and he hates finding it seven months later still wedged in the hems of his clothes, but for some reason it doesn’t bother him as much here. Maybe the sand is different – or maybe the laundry powder in Australia is so clever it knows how to remove the sand. Maybe _he’s_ different now, at this time, in this place. Maybe sand doesn’t matter. Here, where the sea sounds like it’s whispering him to sleep. The crash of the waves is so constant, but never rhythmic. It’s almost frustrating that he can’t time the crashes, trying to imagine the way the waves are sucked back up, folding in on itself and creating white foam.

He's almost dozing again when a soft breath from Dan distracts him. It's not an awake noise, but Phil knows that Dan's not completely asleep either. Phil cracks one eyelid, turning his head ever so slightly to find Dan, who has both eyes closed and is laying on his back. If Phil stretched slightly he could touch him, but he doesn't.

The bed is huge, which is nice, but he doesn't really like the King size. It feels like floating - untethered in a sea of light coloured sheets. But maybe in Australia you need the space when it's summer and you're sweating into crevices you didn't know you had.

“I can hear you thinking…"

Dan's voice is rough and gravelly and delicious, and Phil can't help the smile that tugs at his lips. He rolls to face him, tucking both hands beneath the pillow so he can watch Dan, who still has his eyes closed. He's cute in the mornings, with floofy hair and sleep gathered at the corners of his eyes. He remembers that face when it was thin and baby soft. He remembers when Dan would wait for Phil to fall asleep first, in case he snored, and would set alarms to make sure he woke before Phil. He's glad those days are over, now that they can snore in front of each other without worrying that it’s a deal-breaker.

“What am I thinking then?”

Phil can hear that his own voice is a little rough. He hopes it sounds just as sexy as he thinks Dan's is.

“About how you're not going to drag us out of bed for at least another hour.”

Phil slides one arm out, resting the backs of his knuckles against the soft skin of Dan's arm. Dan’s eyes flicker open and rest on Phil, but he's still groggy and the smile in his eyes doesn't quite work its way to his mouth. The sun has given Dan a healthy glow and his skin feels warm; the burn from their first few days still fresh.

“Okay,” Phil agrees, although it had been his plan all along.

They lapse into silence. Dan's eyes slide shut again and for a moment, Phil feels lost. Lost in this big bed, in this big country, in this world so far away from their flat and his mum. Where the birds sound soft and joyful (despite the rumours about magpies), and the time they have feels like forever. The days stretch into infinity and he can’t remember if it’s Monday or Tuesday.

The fear sets in with ice picks in his abdomen, cold and bitter, and he moves closer to Dan.  The sheets are so clean and tightly pulled across the mattress that they barely rustle as he shifts across the bed. He presses against Dan, burying his face into his shoulder, and Phil's other hand curls around Dan's forearm, pulling it close to his own body.

As a person built on routine and schedules, he hates the nothing of lazy days. Dan could spend fourteen hours sleeping and lazing around, but Phil has to _do_ something. That was how his first video on Youtube was created, after all. A mid-semester break with days full of nothing. A young teen’s dream, usually. But not Phil. And now he’s suspended in time, hovering on the precipice of here and everywhere. The silence screams louder than the waves, like static turned all the way up. If he can just shut his mind off, maybe it would be okay.

“You’re thinking again.”

Phil grumbles softly against his shoulder, trying to force himself to relax, “Not my fault.”

“Totally your fault. If you have to think, at least think of new video ideas.”

Phil flaps his dangling hand, “Worst case scenario we can do what every other Youtuber does and do a “Try not to laugh” challenge.”

He can’t see it, but he knows Dan’s making a face, “I might have to kick you out of bed for that. We aren’t stooping to their level.”

“Might get us more views though.”

Dan rolls his eyes so hard that Phil’s worried they might pop out of his skull and roll off the bed and back to England.

“Stop it,” he says, eyes closing, “Please… I don’t want to talk about profit margins today.”

“Sorry.”

Phil pulls away, and he can feel heat creeping up towards his cheeks. He’s always been that guy – bringing up the serious stuff, or being boring, when everyone else just wants to have a good time. He kind of hates himself for it, in a dramatic, not-really kind of way. If there was one thing he wishes he was better at, it would be relaxing.

Life had been different before Dan. Profits and balances and viewcounts hadn’t mattered then, not at the beginning, not during their radio show. None of it had mattered until they both decided that this was _it_ – this was their _career_. Now he was obsessed with checking their analytics, refining video content, checking what parts people clicked on most. He knew the formula – being silly got them more clicks, more rewatches. More likes. Being a little more risky with his concepts, and of course the long, lingering looks didn’t hurt either. He knew Dan liked to joke online that he was often up at 2am, deep diving a Wikipedia article, but what he didn’t mention was that Phil was right beside him, six weeks back in the comments on their older videos. It was constant work, but it never felt like _real_ work.

But being that guy had gotten them where they were now. Comfortable, on their way to buying their first house, at the end of their second world tour. And Dan. Dan didn’t seem to mind, most of the time.

“Want breakfast?” Phil asked softly, finally sitting up and stretching. He wants to get away, but doesn’t want to make Dan feel like shit for wanting a day off.

Dan’s as stoic as ever, or maybe just still trying to fade back into sleep, “Mm, later.”

“Okay,”

They’re not teenagers anymore and they’ve known each other for so long that Phil knows that monosyllabic answers aren’t a sign that Dan’s annoyed. It’s just Dan, and that’s okay. But he can’t help but feel like he’s dampened the mood of the entire morning.

He clambers out of the bed that’s way too big for the two of them, padding barefoot out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. It’s empty – a handwritten note from Cornelia sits on the counter but Phil doesn’t feel like trying to decipher her beautiful penmanship at the moment, so he leaves it in favour of the kettle. There’s no teapots here – not that he really used one at home anyway – but Australia still feels more modern, somehow. The monarchy, the houses, the cobbled roads and the old-fashioned architecture sometimes make it feel like England got stuck in time while the world moved forward. Not London specifically – Phil gets a breath of fresh, modern air there. But the place they live – not far from London, but far enough – makes him nostalgic for a past he didn’t get to experience.

The kettle rumbles as it heats and Phil gathers two cups just out of habit, leaving one out on the bench and filling the other with the instant coffee they bought from a Woolworths down the road. The steam makes his glasses fog and he waits for a moment before pouring, stirring idly. There was nothing stopping them from coming back after the tour. There was nothing stopping them from returning to any number of locations they’d stayed at, or even finding somewhere new they hadn’t explored. Nothing could stop them from leaving Youtube behind and just going on a forever-vacation. Except maybe Phil’s guilt. Leaving would be too hard. He didn’t even want to leave – he didn’t know why he was even thinking it. It was the day. The silence, the ocean, the wind and the birds and the aching loneliness that clutched inside his heart, squeezing, desperately trying to make it pop. He wasn’t lonely. Not really. But his thoughts were only his own, and sometimes Dan didn’t even want to hear them.

“I think the coffee’s dissolved well enough, mate.”

Phil startles in shock, one hand clutched at his heart as he whips to face Dan, immediately breaking into giggles, “Dan,” he whispers, still breathless from the fight, “You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

He still looks cute, half-lidded eyes and a small, amused smile on his face. Phil’s always loved the way his cheeks try to overcome his face whenever he smiles, and his front teeth are kind of big but they’re perfect for him.

"What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” it’s an easy lie and Dan knows it, and knows when to push. Phil’s not quite ready yet.

“Pour me a coffee?”

Phil nods, focused on the mundane task. He manages to put milk in his own cup as well, taking a long drink of the now warm-but-not-hot liquid as he pushes Dan’s cup towards him.

“Thanks,” Dan smiles, taking a drink and letting out a soft hum, “What do you want to do today?”

“Maybe the beach?” Phil suggested.

The weather outside was so beautiful, and it was a good excuse to leave this house, and hopefully leave his thoughts behind in the process.

“Yeah,” Dan nodded, “Wanna pack a bag while I go grab snacks?”

_

It takes another half hour before they’re out of the house, but at least they make it. 

The ocean is almost deafening out here, and the feeling of floating hasn’t really gone away for Phil. It’s still present, with the wind whipping his hair around and the sun already hot on his skin. He put a thin layer of sunscreen on his face and arms before he left, but he’s going to need another by the time they sit down.

“Somewhere shady,” Dan grunts from behind him.

Dan looks good, as always. He seems to be able to pull off shorts better than Phil ever could, and his knees aren’t repulsively white for reasons unbeknownst to Phil. Dan’s skin is a bit magic sometimes.

“Too hot already?” Phil jokes, but he has to admit he was scanning for a shady spot too. He’s seen pictures of full Australian beaches and can’t understand people who actually choose to sit in the sun?

They have to walk a fair way, but they find a secluded area in the shade of some palms, right near the dunes. Phil spreads out the blanket they brought, and like usual Dan makes it neater before they both flop down on it.

“I could get used to this,” Dan murmurs after a few minutes, and Phil turns his head slightly to listen better. Dan’s got his phone in his hand and he can bet that he’s been taking pictures.

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice. Nobody knows where we are.”

“They kind of do,” Phil grins cheekily, “They’re clever like that. Somehow they knew we’d left Sydney because there are no rainforests there?”

“You know what I mean though…”

Dan’s voice has taken on a serious note and Phil tones it down, scooting closer so he can hear him better. They’re both laying on their backs, but Dan has shifted onto his side now, head propped on his hand. Phil wants to make a ‘paint me like your French girl’ joke, but it’s not the time.

Instead, he turns his head to gaze across the beach, “Yeah.”  

The sand is so white, and the ocean beyond it is so blue. It stretches in endless hues to the horizon, meeting with the impossible blue of the sky. It was amazing how the same colour could have so many tones and shades. There are barely any clouds, but the ones Phil can see are pearly white. It’s so unbelievably beautiful, but maybe this is what England looks like to a tourist too. Maybe to an Australian, it would just be another day.  

“Feels like this is kind of just ours. Can you own a beach?”

“There are private beaches…” Phil muses thoughtfully, “And I think there are private islands…”

Dan’s eyes have gone vacant and Phil can tell he’s considering it - maybe not seriously, but the thought is there. Even if it’s fake, Phil feels the strands of anxiety of change. What if this prompted a move? What if-

“You’re having a day, aren’t you?”

Phil snaps out of his self-induced panic to lean up on his elbow. It's always easy to pretend that there isn't a war going on inside of himself, and he sighs, “A bit, yeah.”

He scoots across more until he can lay his head on Dan’s hip. It’s bony and uncomfortable but Dan’s right - he’s having a day, and he needs to touch him right now. He feels Dan’s slender fingers in his hair and his eyes fall shut, enjoying it.

“Where’s your head?”

“Missing my mum.”

It had only been a fleeting thought at the start of his day, but Phil quickly realises that it wasn’t really ever about residual anxiety, or about the lazy days. It was homesickness.

“Want to call her?”

“It’s like, two in the morning over there,” Phil giggles softly, but Dan’s hands tighten in his hair.

“You know she’d answer.”

Phil wants to protest but it’s true. She’d answer at any time - day or night. If he needed it, she’d fly to Australia right now, “Yeah. But it’s not- I’m not… It’s not dire or anything.”

“Tonight we can call her then?” he suggests, and Phil feels himself relax, nodding.

“Yeah.”

“And then maybe we’ll go see her the day after we get back? Or we could rearrange our fights, and go-”

“Dan,” Phil soothes him, rolling so he can see him better, his head on Dan’s side now, “It’s okay. It’s just a day.”

Dan pauses, and then he’s moving and shimmying and trying desperately not to touch any of the sand or mess up the rug until they’re lying side by side again. He throws an arm and a leg over Phil, and it’s kind of a weird position but they settle into it.

It’s not Phil’s preferred method of comfort - Dan’s more about the weighted blankets and being pinned - but still, it’s nice. He just likes being close.

“Do you remember the first time you moved out of home?” Dan murmurs quietly, “And you called me crying because it was so different to university.”

“I’d rather not remember that time, if we’re being honest.”

“It made me feel good,” Dan says quietly, ignoring Phil’s shame, “That you were willing to call me at a low moment when you had good friends back home who could’ve taken your call. I think it was the first time I heard you cry properly.”

Dan doesn’t often get reflective like this, and Phil clings to it - even if it’s not really a great memory.

“Except when we met.”

“Happy tears are different.”

"They were stressed tears too. Relief as well, maybe, that you were actually real and not some forty year old catfish.”

“We’d skyped, you spork,” Dan digs his fingers into Phil’s side, making him yelp and squirm, “You’re almost forty.”

"You can fuck right off,” Phil snaps, but there’s only a tiny bit of heat behind it, “I’ve got eight years.”

“Mm,” Dan muses, “Do you think we’ll still be doing Youtube in ten years?”

Whatever precipice Phil was standing on before, that comment pushes him over the edge, flings him off, onto the sharp rocks below. His throat closes and his eyes immediately flood with tears, a cold pit squeezing his stomach so tightly he almost gasps. He can’t speak but he’s gone completely rigid beneath Dan.

“Hey,” Dan’s face is soft as he tightens his grip on Phil, pulling him closer.

But Phil’s too far gone, and a ragged sob escapes. He pulls away, sitting up and covering his face as the fear takes over. All the ‘what-ifs’, all of the pain and the uncertainty of their future swims at the front of his mind and it’s all he can concentrate on - that fact that he _doesn’t know._

His mind only has so much capacity for the future, but ten years is too far. Youtube would only last them so long - and then what? Then _what_?

He’s violently trembling now, and he hadn’t noticed before but Dan’s squeezing one of Phil’s hands, the other arm wrapped around him. He feels like he can’t breathe but if Dan let him go he would be lost in the void of space, endlessly floating.

At times like this, he wishes he could identify the all the thoughts that are shooting straight through him, like the thousand needle attack of the Final Fantasy Cactuar enemies. It’s a blur though, so many inconsistent thoughts and possibilities that don’t even really make sense when he thinks too hard. He has contingency plans for every scenario - he’s so prepared it hurts sometimes that he doesn’t get to use them.

Being anxious, being afraid of change - his coping mechanism is to prepare. To have his mind ready for any scenario. But ten years was too far away. He couldn’t prepare for that. There are too many possibilities. The end of Youtube, the end of the Internet, war, social freedom, new technologies, godzilla taking over the planet, martians arriving, him and Dan breaking up-

It was a lot.

It takes a while for him to come down from the more serious thoughts - a while to stop trembling and for the tears to stop streaming down his face. Dan just holds him, rubs his back and squeezes his hand, until Phil finally is able to pull away.

“Do you want to go back?”

Phil rubs his sore, red eyes and nods. Silence seems to be the theme of the day, but Dan didn’t appear to mind. Phil reaches out and squeezes his hand, unable to express in words just how grateful he is for the other.

Their journey back to the house is quiet, and Phil tries to turn his brain off by counting the white rocks and shells he sees as he walks. It works, for the most part. There are forty-seven, and Phil even pockets one that looks extra smooth.

The house is cool despite the hot sun outside, but even so Dan puts the air conditioning on - they’d never tire of having it in every hotel and house they visited.

“Want to play some games?” Dan asks, once they’ve dumped their untouched bags on the counter, “Maybe something more like home will make you feel better?”

They don’t need to talk about what happened at the beach - Dan knows what goes on in Phil’s  head, and Phil often gets sick of explaining it. Nothing ever changes.

Phil doesn’t want to play games, but he nods, because if anything they both understand that routine is important to both of them.

The Switch is already plugged in and so they get comfortable. Mario is easy and mindless and Phil actually relaxes, all of his brainpower occupied by losing sensationally to Dan almost every round.

After an hour, he almost feels good again. Reset, and ready to take on the rest of the day, as long as it’s restricted to staying inside the house.

It was only a day, after all, and some days were harder than others. Phil knew that, and he knew that it was okay to have moments, days, weeks like this. The motivational posters and the inspirational posts told him so. But despite the knowledge, he still hates that he has to have them though. He likes being happy - likes being a persona that never has a bad day.

Phil didn’t know if he ever wanted to show the internet this side of him. It was almost too real - too raw. He was proud, of course, of Dan, and the sides of himself that he showed their fans. It was just the same as his hair - perhaps that wasn’t what the fans wanted. Maybe they wanted to use Phil as an escape, and not have to think about his emotions and what he was going through.

On the other hand, maybe it was time to ‘try new things’.

Whatever his choice, at least he knew that in his immediate future, Dan would be by his side.

With that knowledge, Phil could get through anything.


End file.
